Batman: Inverse Theory
by LJ58
Summary: What if Batman were the one that took an unexpected dip in that chemical vat? A response to a challenge from Whitetigerwolf.
1. Chapter 1

_I do not own any of the DC characters named within, and are only using them for a tale crafted for entertainment purposes only._

**Batman: Inverse Theory**

**By LJ58**

**I**

_Inspired by a challenge from Whitetiger:_

"Still up, sir," Alfred drawled as he eyed the back of the young millionaire hunched over the computer in the massive cave beneath Wayne Manor.

Overhead, dozens of bats squeaked and chirped restlessly, but Bruce Wayne, still clad in his distinctive costume he had first donned just a few months ago, paid no heed to them. Or to him, either, it would seem.

"Master Bruce?"

"Hmmmm? Oh, Alfred," the young man turned to eye him, only his cowl pulled back, the rest of the admittedly unnerving outfit still covering his lean, muscular frame honed by years of training and preparation for the self-styled crusade the orphan had began not long after his parents had died at the hands of a common thug. "Still up," he asked absently, turning back to the computer that was running some kind of program.

As most of the things that his employer did of late, Alfred could make neither heads nor tails of it.

"Indeed, sir," he remarked blandly. "I thought you would be relaxing for a change, though, as you did bring down that peculiarly garbed gang you were chasing."

"Yes, the Red Hood gang," he nodded. "They were taken into custody earlier tonight."

"Then, might I ask, what is keeping you up?"

"I got careless," Bruce growled without looking up, and Alfred knew what that confession cost him.

"I assume you mean you need a medic again…."

"I'm not sure what I need. Yet."

"Sir?"

"One of them almost fell into a vat of waste chemicals. Apparently, the place was a drop for a waste dump from nine other corporations throughout the city. Even they didn't know what was in those vats, or how they might….interact."

"And I assume your concern is….?"

"Aside from the obvious fact they were dumping those chemicals somewhere," Bruce said, learning back in his chair to eye the calculations being played out on the screen before him, "I was directly exposed to them myself."

"My word," Alfred gasped. "Are you sure you shouldn't be….?"

"Alfred," he growled at him over his shoulder. "How could Bruce Wayne go to a doctor, and explain being exposed to a hodgepodge of illegally stored chemicals?"

"I see your point, sir. Still…."

"I'm testing the samples I brought back, and checking for anything suspicious now. So far, I've not noticed any….adverse reactions. I prefer not to take chances, though. So I'm running everything I can think of just now."

"Of course. Perhaps I might suggest the portable MRI? It might give us a better idea if anything…."

"Later. Considering I was only in the vat a few seconds before I escaped, any reaction is bound to be epidermal."

"One hopes for the best, of course," Alfred remarked dryly, knowing his employer's stubborn streak all too well. "Might I ask what happened?"

"One of the gang members almost fell into the tank when he ran. I caught him, and slung him back onto the catwalk, but the grapple dislodged, and….."

"Sir?"

"Interesting. A vaguely kinetic reaction to the primary chemical component."

"Sir?"

"It means, Alfred, it possesses mutational abilities," he said grimly.

"But… Did you not say you have not noticed anything?"

"No, I haven't. That doesn't mean any changes might be….immediate. I'd better run some more tests, and continue the cellular extrapolations. Just in case."

"I shall go and make tea. I suspect you'll be needing it."

"Make it coffee," Bruce growled. "Black."

"As you will, sir," he sighed, and headed back for the lift to the main house.

Bruce barely noticed his departure as he continued to work on the problems running though his mind. One of them, his eclectic mind insisted, was a new grapple. The hook wasn't working out. He needed something with more stability. More holding power. Something that wouldn't be so easily displaced by sudden, violent activity.

After all, he reasoned, most of what he did was sudden, and violent.

Meanwhile, he had to focus on the problem before him.

Other than a slight stinging he had noted on the way back to the Cave, he really had not noticed anything out of the ordinary. Even when he changed costumes, leaving the sodden one to be cleaned, he had not noticed anything unusual.

What concerned him, though, and what he had not told Alfred, was that he had swallowed at least two or three ounces of the bitter chemical stew. That ingestion was what truly concerned him. So far, it had not even upset his stomach, but he was taking no chances. He was checking, and rechecking everything.

**~B~**

Bruce rolled over, his sleep restless and troubled.

It didn't help that he had stayed up late again, and was finally dragged to bed when he almost fell over working on the computer models.

Alfred had shown up with tea, flavored with lemon and cream just the way he favored it, and informed him they were out of coffee. He barely tasted the bland beverage as he gulped it down, focused on his work for hours afterward.

When he finally dropped into bed, Alfred had not said a word.

Bruce was out cold by the time he hit the bed anyway.

Rolling over, he noted the position of the sun, and knew it was almost noon.

"Good morning, Master Bruce," Alfred drawled, walking into the room with a breakfast tray. "Or should I say good afternoon?" "I didn't know you were a comedian, too, Alfred," he grumbled, and sat up in bed to eye his longtime friend and employee as he set up the tray, uncovered the meal likely kept warm for him all this time, and then smiled at Alfred's dry, and predictable reply.

"Whatever made you think I was joking, sir?"

"It's not that late," he remarked, taking the coffee that Alfred had apparently found since last night.

Then again, knowing his friend, he might have ordered it the moment he noted it was gone, and simply had it delivered this morning.

"It's is half past noon, sir, and you have a two o'clock meeting at Wayne-Tech."

"Right," he groaned, and sagged back in the bed.

"Recall that Bruce Wayne does need to make an occasional appearance, or people might begin to wonder at your absence, sir? After all, it wouldn't do for you to disappear completely when Batman only just started showing up after your return to the city."

"I know. I know," he grumbled. "It's just…. I think I need a manager. Someone I can trust to run Wayne-Tech the way I want it. This rush to meetings every time the board panics over a Wall Street report is going to be a problem the way I see it."

"I wager the shareholders aren't too thrilled, either," Alfred deadpanned.

Bruce merely eyed his friend over his coffee cup as he lifted it to his lips.

"Two o'clock," Alfred echoed. "I suggest you not dawdle, sir," he quipped as he went to Bruce's closet, and began laying out a casual suit. Or one that was casual for Alfred.

"I'll just take a quick shower, and then check the computer…."

"You have just enough time to eat, shower, and make your meeting. The computer, I daresay, can wait."

"Alfred…."

"If you are finished eating," he asked, arching a brow as Bruce just eyed him from the bed, having only gulped down a piece of the buttered toast.

"Fine," he grumbled. "Someday, we're going to have to work out who really runs this house," he muttered on his way to the bathroom.

"Indeed, sir," Alfred agreed without looking back as he carried the barely touched tray away.

Bruce chortled wryly, then walked over to the mirror, and ran a hand across his chin.

Well, he wouldn't have to shave yet. That was a bonus, he decided as he put it from his mind, and stripped down to climb into the shower. He barely noted the loss of his body hair until he was finishing shampoo from his eyes.

He looked down, frowned, and realized his body was as smooth and bare as a newborn below the neck. Just like his chin.

He frowned.

A reaction from the chemicals? If that was all they had done, he couldn't complain. Still, he wasn't sure if that was all. Some of those chemicals were obviously potent, and he had swallowed a mouthful. Yet, so far, he had yet to notice any other reaction.

Forcing his mind from the unexpected hair loss, he quickly dried, got dressed, and met Alfred downstairs.

"You seem to have finished in record time," Alfred noted as they left the mansion.

"Well, I tried to hurry," he drawled without explanation as he climbed into the back of the smaller limo they used of late since fuel prices were going up. Still, Bruce Wayne had an image to protect, so even the small limo was necessary when on business.

"Indeed," Alfred remarked yet again as he shut the door, and walked around the car.

Bruce sat back, his mind working on the upcoming meeting, and several other projects for his alter-ego at the same time as Alfred drove him toward the city.

**~B~**

Batman limped into the Cave a few nights later, and leaned against a bench as he drew a sigh, and shook his head.

"Sir?"

"Something's wrong," he told Alfred as the car cooled down, it's turbines still winding down after he had shut off the powerful engines. "I was off again. Sloppier than usual. It was like….my balance and coordination were completely off."

He paused, grimacing as he knelt over slightly, one hand on his lower belly.

"Master Bruce!"

"Just a….twinge," he groaned. "I've been having them lately. I think I need to….take some more blood. Recheck….my earlier tests. Something," he told Alfred, "Is definitely going on."

"I think you'd best sit down if you're feeling that badly," Alfred told him, rushing to drag a chair to him, rather than the other way around. "I'll get the medical kit."

Bruce nodded, breathing hard as he pushed his cowl back, feeling as he had run a marathon. Twice.

He had been lucky tonight. Past lucky.

The last few nights he had been fine. Then, he noted his balance seemed to start slowly shifting of late. He put it down to fatigue, since he was running double shifts on patrol, and at Wayne-Tech lately. He waited for Alfred's return from the clinic in the back of the Cave, and didn't even try to move.

Even he knew that was unusual for him.

He was worn out. Past worn out. He felt as if…..

"I think you'd better get out of the eveningwear, sir," Alfred told him as he opened a box with sealed syringes, and a few vials. "It'll make this easier."

It spoke to his state that Bruce didn't even try to argue.

"I'll run these samples, sir, after I get you into bed," Alfred told him as he drew blood.

"No," Bruce hissed, glaring up at him. "I need to…."

"You need to rest. I'll bring you some hot soup, too. You aren't going to do any good if you collapse down here. So," he said, finishing up his task, "Let's go. No arguments this time, sir. You obviously need a break."

Bruce was just too tired and sore to argue.

**~B~**

As the past few nights, Bruce still found it difficult to rest.

His mind wasn't the problem this time.

His body seemed to be on fire from the inside out. He felt as if even his bones and joints were tormenting him. It made it impossible to lay still, and even harder to sleep. Every time he almost dozed off, he found himself reacting to a pain, or pains, that would abruptly wrack his body.

Near dawn, he climbed out of bed, and padded toward the bathroom, his steps staggering, and uneasy. He paused to look in the mirror, and frowned.

Looking closer, he realized he was looking through dark bangs that now covered his brow. Pushing the dark hair back, he shivered as he realized that movement at his shoulders wasn't just his pajamas.

He spun half around, and realized his hair was a good six inches past his shoulders.

"Holy….!"

He frowned, and tugged at the hair.

It wasn't coming off. It was his own. And it was real.

Surely all of that discomfort wasn't just hair growth, he mentally checked as he stepped back, and stared down at himself, holding up his fists.

And noted the slightest tenting of his pajama shirt.

His eyes rounded hugely as he tore open the shirt and stared.

It spoke to his own discipline and will that he didn't simply scream.

Shaking his head, he pulled off his pajama pants, and stared at his legs. His altered stance was more obvious this morning. As if his entire pelvis had reset itself.

Only….was that even possible?

He swallowed hard, and pulled down his shorts.

His jaw clenched when he realized that while his penis was still there, it was very much reduced. Very much, and his testicles were missing. Added to that, his scrotum seemed to have pulled up, and was in the process of….splitting. As if…..

He shook his head at the unthinkable, and went to find a robe.

Padding through the house, even Alfred yet to rise, he went straight to the secret entrance that led below, and entered his Cave. He headed to the computer, and booted up the medical extrapolations he had been running.

A quick check found Alfred had already entered the new blood and tissue samples from last night, and the computer had been running them all night.

He already suspected what he would find.

He was right.

It took only a few minutes to confirm the radically elevated levels of new hormones in his system. Female hormones. One might even call them 'super' hormones. Somehow amplified by the bizarre mix of chemicals, the levels of estrogen in his blood had been enhanced by the chemical bath, and were altering his DNA in a way that was transforming him into…..a female.

He stared hard at the results, and for only the second time in his life, had no idea what to do.

_To Be Continued…_


	2. Chapter 2

_I do not own any of the DC characters named within, and are only using them for a tale crafted for entertainment purposes only._

**Batman: Inverse Theory**

**By LJ58**

**II**

Bruce was still sitting in front of the computer, frantically trying to comprehend what was happening to him when Alfred appeared.

"I thought I might find you down…. Good Lord," the usually unflappable man exclaimed as he stared at Bruce sitting wrapped in a robe, and nothing else as he looked toward his friend.

"Alfred," he deadpanned. "I believe I now know what the chemicals are doing to me."

Alfred just gaped.

"My word," he finally exclaimed, just staring at the very femininely rounded form of his employer.

"That was…..my reaction, too," Bruce admitted.

"Master Bruce, how will you….? You have a shareholder's meeting in less than two hours," he exclaimed. "And I daresay this will bode ill for your…..alter ego."

Bruce looked back at him when he finally turned to face his longtime friend, and employee. "I've already made that realization," he remarked as somberly as ever. "That's why I've…..made a few calls."

"A few…..calls," Alfred sputtered. "Sir…. That is, shouldn't you be in a hospital?"

"And how would Bruce Wayne explain this, Alfred," the increasingly feminine detective demanded, his expression the very same that had always adorned his face.

"But….who did you call that can help…..with this," he asked incredulously.

"You recall those metas I joined to help bring down that alien last month," Bruce told him. "It occurred to me that they would be idea to help me seek answers, and arrange to cover my….absence."

"Absence?"

"Bruce Wayne is hardly going to be able to just show back up in a skirt," Bruce growled.

"So, what are your plans," Alfred asked. "You are obviously not going to convince anyone you are who you are any longer," he said, still stunned at how feminine his employer had already become.

"Obviously. Don't worry. I've got plans I'll be setting in motion as soon as I get the help I need."

"And, dare I ask if your….alter ego will be sitting this one out?"

Bruce's expression was telling.

"I'll be needing alterations in the usual suit," he said, sounding as grim as ever in spite of his rapidly changing voice that was going from bass to a sultry rasp.

"As you wish, Master…. Er….."

"Call me…..Mara. Mara Wayne."

"Mara, Master….. Er, Mistress Wayne," Alfred Pennyworth tried to remain composed as he eyed his transformed employer.

"I felt is suitable. And honored my mother's name," the somber detective remarked as he turned to face the computer again.

"Of course, uh, Miss Mara," he sighed.

The newly christened Mara Wayne glanced over his shoulder, smiling blandly as he stated, "That's what I like about you, Alfred. You don't let anything disconcert you."

"Indeed, Miss Mara. Now, will you be bothering to eat breakfast, or…..?"

"I'm expecting the first of my friends at any moment, Alfred. I'd better…."

"You called," the colorfully clad hero in a red cape just settling about his broad shoulders as he seemed to just appear with a rush of wind.

"My word," Alfred exclaimed, staring at the newcomer in alarm.

"Alfred, meet Superman," Mara said without looking over his shoulder.

His, because his mindset was still undeniably male. That had not changed. At least, not yet.

Alfred cleared his throat, then nodded at the tall hero with a faint smile of his own etched into his handsome visage.

"And will your guest be wishing breakfast, too," he asked deadpan.

"No, thank you," Superman told him. "I had a big breakfast before I left the farm."

"Indeed," Alfred drawled, and turned to leave. "Then I shall leave you to it….Miss Wayne."

"What happened, Bruce," Superman asked.

"You don't seem surprised," the transformed detective remarked as he turned only then to face the Kryptonian hero.

"I noticed you weren't yourself when I approached the cave. A quick peek at your DNA on my way in told me you were Bruce, but that your genetic structure seems to be in flux. Bad night?"

"You could say so," Mara nodded, and explained about his chemical bath a few nights ago, and what had transpired since.

"I see. I wager this is causing you problems with both your…identities, then?"

"To say the least. I have an appointment with the Board this very afternoon, but I am hard-pressed to see how I can attend just now. That's one of the reasons I called you, and the others in."

"One reason?"

"Yes. First of all, between you, Barry, and J'onn, I'm hoping you can find out more about the mix of chemicals that transformed me, and what I might be able to do about it. Secondly, I need someone to stand in for Bruce Wayne, and occasionally, Batman, until I can….fix this."

"You know I would be glad to help. Still, how can any of us stand in for Bruce…..?"

"I am a very good makeup artist, among other things. I can help you pass for me. Since you're about my size and shape, it wouldn't be hard. It's mostly about attitude, and manner. I already know you can probably alter your voice appropriately."

"Do you?"

"Isn't that what you do when you leave Clark behind to don your cape?"

"It's…..part of it," he admitted, still a little uneasy over just how easily Batman had learned his identity in the first place.

For a human without powers, he could be formidable when he put his mind to it. Fortunately, Lex had yet to be proven as clever. Lex, or Lois.

"Of course we'll do what we can," J'onn J'onzz declared as the shape shifter from Mars appeared just then, phasing right through the solid rock of the cave wall to their left.

"I take it you heard," Superman asked.

"Enough. It took little effort to deduce what had happened after what little I heard, and what I'm now seeing."

"Barry," the feminized hero asked the Martian.

"He'll be delayed. He has something to handle back on the coast. Meanwhile, I'll get started analyzing the catalytic elements of whatever you were exposed with, and let him know what I find. You have samples?"

Mara gestured to a nearby lab table.

"My computer is still trying to isolate all the ratios, and base components. Someone literally dumped a great many things into that vat. Which also concerns me. If these chemicals are being dumped somewhere, they could cause incalculable harm."

"Especially if they got into the water supply," Superman nodded.

"As I said, I will begin our analysis. You should prepare Superman for your appearance as Bruce Wayne this afternoon. I also suggest that you appear with him, just in case this takes very long, it will be a good idea to have a fallback identity if you cannot immediately be transformed back. Or….."

"If I'm stuck," Mara asked somberly.

"Yes," J'onn nodded simply. "For now, let us proceed carefully, and plan for all possibilities."

"Ready to become a playboy, Kent," Mara growled, eyeing him.

Superman glanced away from the vials he had been studying, and shook his head.

"It seems simpler than J'onn's job. Even my vision can't quite make out all the chemicals in that hodgepodge. You're right. It could be potentially dangerous if it were dumped into the water, or someplace where it might contaminate the environment, or even other people."

"We'll handle that, too," Mara declared. "I already suspected that illegal dump site was one of Rupert Thorne's enterprises. I had hoped to find evidence of that when I ran into the Red Hood gang trying to empty the safe there."

"So, how will you explain…..your presence if you're coming with me," Clark asked.

Mara eyed him, and then nodded.

"I'll be a hitherto unknown Wayne cousin who dropped by to visit. Considering my family tree is splintered anyway, it was easy enough to create a background that will pass scrutiny."

"Was….?"

Mara simply eyed him, and nodded.

"This way, Kent."

"Right. Of course you already have everything in place," the more colorfully clad hero sighed. He was still astonished at just how prepared Batman seemed to be those few times they had been working together. Almost as if he were prescient, or something.

**~B~**

"This is not looking good," J'onn declared as the two men returned to the cave well after three in the afternoon.

Mara Wayne was now dressed very stylishly in a sleek business suit for women, while Superman looked the very image of Bruce Wayne.

As Bruce, he had done the usual things, played the bored playboy, and then in apparently impromptu fashion, declared he was going on vacation as the air was just getting too smoky for him of late as the summer sun heated things up in the city.

No one questioned him.

"I take it you're not talking about our façades," Superman asked in his own voice now.

"Indeed. I have been in touch with Barry, and from what little we learned, we know one thing for certain."

"Only one thing," Mara asked.

"So far. You were….quite fortunate."

"_This_ is fortunate," Mara hissed, gesturing at her feminine frame that was very convincing just then, because it was very real.

"I do not jest," J'onn told him. "The chemicals are far more volatile and dangerous than you realize. You are fortunate your exposure was minute. My initial testing indicates had you been more exposed to them, you could have bleached the pigmentation from your body and hair, and quite possibly even affected your mind."

"So, some mental aberration is still possible?"

The green-skinned Martian looked up from his makeshift lab, and sighed.

"This comes from Barry, as much as myself. Mental….influences are still likely possible, but not on the scale you fear. Consider, your hitherto male metabolism is now being altered and influenced by female hormones on a scale the average male doesn't normally encounter. In fact, even the average female likely doesn't possess the levels you do."

The transformed detective just scowled.

"To what degree? How much of an influence can I expect?"

"Bear in mind, I'm not human. Body shape, even gender as you know it, isn't that much of a concern to me. I suggest you contact someone with more familiarity with the female gender as to what you might expect."

"What was that, Kent," Mara growled at him as he turned at the ragged, choking sound behind him.

"Nothing," he declared, managing to hide his smile as he blurred for a moment before reappearing as Superman once more. "I was just saying…. You might call Diana in on this. She's not only….female, but she understands our lifestyle. Meanwhile, I have an emergency I just detected, so….."

Superman vanished in a blur of speed, not quite able to choke back all his laughter as he flew away at hypersonic speed.

Mara just glared after him.

"So far as I can tell, Batma….. Uh, Miss Wayne, I don't think the chemicals will otherwise affect, or further transform you. From your most recent tissue and blood samples, it looks as most of them have already passed from your system."

"Leaving me like this?"

"For the moment. Without the catalyst in play, your genetic structure is destabilizing from what I have been able to see. Barry and I are working on a model to see if the process can be reversed. But, for the moment, you are what you will be so far as we can tell."

"Perfect," Mara growled.

"Yes."

"What?"

"You were wondering about how to cover Batman's patrol this evening. You were wondering if I might be free to aid you. The answer is yes."

"Stay out of my head, J'onn," he growled. "Still…. I appreciate it. I want to find out where these chemicals are coming from. And, more importantly, where they're going."

"Of course. How will you be…..?"

"Just in time, Miss Mara," Alfred declared. "I just finished one of your uniforms," he said, holding up the altered suit.

Mara smiled for the first time.

Still, the Martian noted that 'she' did not smile warmly. It was more of a cold, determined smile that suggested Mara was not yet out of the fight.

Not that he doubted it.

Bruce/Mara was one of the most formidable minds he had ever come across since landing on Earth. It spoke to his current distraction that he had been able to see anything in the detective's mind, since he was usually very good about keeping him out. Something, he suspected, the hero had obviously trained to do before now.

"Shall I find a costume for your friend, Miss," the butler asked.

"No need," J'onn declared, and instantly shifted to appear as a very convincing, and very grim Batman.

"You'll still need a utility belt if you're going to be convincing," Mara told him as he took his costume, and turned away to dress. "Remember, Batman doesn't fly, and he relies on his….tools."

"Point taken," J'onn nodded, and his costume shifted to eliminate the belt that had been cosmetic only.

"So, what will we be calling you, Miss Wayne," Alfred asked dryly. "Dare I suggest, Batgirl?"

The look on that now masked face was more than familiar.

"I think I'll just go with Bat."

"As you wish, Miss…. Bat."

Mara glowered, walked over to jump into the car as the now apparent Batman joined him, and glowered all the more as he had to adjust his usual seating behind the controls.

"Problems," Alfred called, not even pretending to smile.

"No," the apparent female snapped just before the canopy closed, and the car screeched away as it accelerated abruptly.

Only then did Alfred's impassive mask crack just the slightest, and a fiant smile edged across his lips before he turned away.

**~B~**

"Don't move," a low, husky voice growled.

Allen Waters froze, fearing the worst as he carefully released the two-wheeler he was using to lift the heavy drum full of chemicals, and turned to face…..

"Are you kidding me," Allen's buddy laughed, already seeing the slender female dressed as a bat. "What is this, Batbabe," he laughed.

Allen started to laugh, too.

Until Batbabe moved, and suddenly Hank wasn't laughing. He was out cold, probably with a broken jaw from the lump under his jaw.

"You think I'm funny," she growled.

"No! No, swear to God," he rasped, holding up both hands.

"We both know where you got these," the new Bat hissed, nodding at the last of over fifty barrels being loaded into his box truck. "I want to know where they're going. You're going to tell me."

Allen regained some of his bravado as he started shaking his head.

"No?"

"You don't know what he would do to me?"

"You're right," the Bat murmured. "I don't know what _Thorne_ would do….."

"How did you know….?"

"But I do know what _he_ will do," he said nodding over the thug's shoulder.

Allen's eyes rounded as a strong hand dropped on his shoulder, spun him around, and he was staring up into the grim, shadowed features of the Batman himself.

"I told you asking nice was a waste of time, Bat," the larger Bat growled, the tone so cold, and so ominous that Allen barely kept from wetting himself. "Now we do it my way."

"No! No! I'll talk," Allen backed away from him, hands still up in mock surrender. "Anything you want to know! I'll talk," he almost cried.

Batman just glowered.

The Bat grumbled, remembering Allen now, as he had met him before on some petty jobs. He was slow, thick, and all muscle.

He just didn't have much backbone without someone to back him.

"Then talk," he demanded, stepping up to grab his shirt, and jerking him toward him. "Or we let you go. Right back to ICU."

Allen talked.

**~B~**

"I've got enough to stop Thorne from any more dumping," the Bat grumbled as the Batmobile entered the cave later that night. "And we have the CDC cleaning up the dumpsites we discovered," he added. "Only it doesn't tell us anything else. They didn't keep any records on what they were dumping, or in what quantities. It could have been anything," he complained.

"We have made headway on identifying many of the chemicals, but their interactions changed so much I doubt we ever truly know everything present," J'onn admitted as they parked, and the car slowly rotated in preparation for its next use. "Still, I see that you didn't have any of the earlier coordination issues you mentioned tonight."

"I have been practicing," he grit out. "And as you pointed out, I do seem to have….stabilized. Physically speaking, at least."

Even as they both jumped out of the car, they realized they had another guest.

"Batman," the colorfully clad Amazon nodded to J'onn. "Superman said you needed to see me."

"Actually, Diana," J'onn drawled in his own voice as his body shifted back to what was normal for him. "I am not Batman," he told her. "She is," he added, nodding to the slender female at his side.

Diana just stared.

"Bruce," she actually squeaked.

_To Be Continued….._


	3. Chapter 3

_I do not own any of the DC characters named within, and are only using them for a tale crafted for entertainment purposes only._

**Batman: Inverse Theory**

**By LJ58**

**III**

"What happened to you," Diana exclaimed, staring at the slender woman in the Batman costume beside J'onn.

"Superman didn't tell you," Mara demanded.

"He was….in a hurry. Something about a creature called Lobo?"

"Him," Mara grumbled. "Don't worry. He can handle him."

"What happened," Diana asked again.

"I shall leave you to this," J'onn told him. "I will return when I have more news. By now, Barry should have the samples I sent him, and maybe we can…..find a solution. Meanwhile, I suspect Diana will be your best….aid in what remains."

The Bat pulled off his cowl, revealing a very pretty, very somber face, and Diana only gaped all the more as the Martian simply left without preamble after leaving her to her confusion.

"Bruce?"

"Call me Mara. We obviously need to talk," he sighed.

"I see you still have a way with understating things," Diana remarked dryly. "So…. Are you really….?"

"I've apparently….regenerated into a completely female form," Mara said dryly. "And I have to tell you, the past week was bad enough, but of late, I'm feeling…..worse."

"Worse," Diana asked.

"Yes. I don't have the….same sensations as when I began to regenerate, but I'm….aching again, in a more localized region," he said with a faint blush. "And I can't seem to shake a very bad headache. One not helped by the fact that half the thugs out there took one look at me, and dismissed….."

"Welcome to my world," Diana sighed as she cut him off. "But now you had better come with me."

"Come with you? Where?"

"Headaches? Aching? Tell me, Bru…. Ah, Mara, do you also feel….bloated? Cramped?"

Mara stared hard at the colorfully clad Amazon and frowned.

"Wait. Wait, are you saying….?"

"It is a natural part of the female biology, Mara," she told him. "If your hormones are as potent, and hyperactive as you said, then it stands to reason that….."

"Damn," the young woman grumbled, and shook his head.

"I have a few….items you may need," she said. "But you might want to decide…."

Mara's jaw tightened.

"Which you prefer. Pads, or…."

"Damn it, Diana," he growled.

"Don't curse me, Mara," she shot back, and eyed him up and down. "From what you said, and from what I see, you might as well learn up front what to expect, and how to prepare for it. You need a few other lessons, too, I think."

"What do you mean," he sputtered.

She smirked now.

"Let me guess. You're still thinking of yourself in the male gender, aren't you."

"I am a man," he growled.

Diana smiled only slightly now as she looked him up and down again.

"Really? Not from where I'm standing. You complained about not being taken seriously? I know all female heroes have that same issue. But you, you're also still trying to walk, and carry yourself like a male. You can't, though. Obviously, your skeletal structure, muscles, and more have also changed. Didn't they?"

"Yes," he muttered honestly.

"Then you need to learn a bit more about the female form. And shift your combat style accordingly. I can help you."

"You?"

"I am, first and foremost, an Amazon warrior," she growled.

"I know, but…. I'm hoping that the others can decipher a means of restoring me before I have to consider…..longer term issues."

"I think you had better start considering those issues now," Diana shot. "Superman might not have said anything, but if J'onn's distraction and mood back on the Watchtower are any indication, I'm guessing they don't have a clue just yet."

Mara's expression turned all the grimmer.

"Fine," he said in a hissing and reluctant surrender. "But I am not letting this beat me."

"Well, there is one advantage to this….mishap," Diana told him as Mara followed him to the facilities in the back of the huge cave when she mentioned them again.

"What is that," he demanded.

"Well, mother can hardly complain about our relationship now."

Mara froze with one hand on the enclosed clinic's door, and stared back at her.

"Think about it, Mara," Diana grinned, and winked playfully. "Remember, we are an island of women warriors."

For one of the few times in his life, Mara, once Bruce Wayne, found himself nonplussed, and blushing like a real innocent.

Diana only chortled, and led him into the clinic, and back toward the facilities for a little anatomy lesson.

She wondered when she should bring up birth control, since in their world, it could be a problem, too, considering the character and ethics of some of their enemies. She took one look at Mara's face as she pulled out the spare tampon she carried, and decided that one had best wait for another time.

In his current mood, bringing up combat adjustments might just be safer, she decided with a secret grin.

**~B~**

Mara Wayne stifled a yawn as she sat listening to the blowhard droning on and on about the environment.

It had been six months since J'onn had delivered the bad news. Without the actual chemical soup that transformed him, he couldn't isolate the proper matrix to create a viable cure. Or any other kind of reversal agent. Not one that couldn't potentially make things worse.

It didn't help that Arkham had several new residents after just minor exposure to contaminated water had driven a few citizens completely insane. Rupert Thorne, as usual, got off with a simple fine after proving he personally knew nothing of the illegal dumping, and letting a few of his puppet CEOs take the fall for him.

The CDC was still cleaning up spills, i.e. dump sites, all around the Gotham area. Fortunately, none had reached the greater public, and thanks to his early, if inadvertent discovery of the problem, those sites were actually few, and limited.

It had been just one month ago that Mara had used J'onn to stage a disappearance for Bruce Wayne who was lost in an avalanche in the Alps while on a skiing trip. Search parties were still looking due to his celebrity status, but by now, few people were holding out hope.

Mara had still not written off Bruce completely, though. Still, 'his' will had left her controlling interest in Wayne-Tech, and with his, or rather her new managing CEO, Luscious Fox took a lot of pressure off her shoulders. She still had to show up for certain events, and fund raisers, though.

She would much rather be on patrol.

The Bat was becoming just as feared as Batman had been by now thanks to some new techniques incorporated into his regimen courtesy of Diana's training. Batman was less often seen, though, and just last week, 'he,' courtesy of a disguised Superman, declared he was going undercover on an extended operation for the Justice League. No one would be missing him anytime soon, though. Not with the new 'Bat' watching over the city.

He, or rather she had been very quick to change the minds of those that tried to dub her 'Batgirl,' or worse when she began to become a new player in the streets of Gotham.

On the plus side, Diana was right. Hippolyta didn't bat an eye at hearing of her change, and had even welcomed her to the island to train with her daughter any time she wished to visit.

Yawning again, she didn't even blush when one of the men near her table grinned, and winked at her.

Yet another issue Mara had to learn to cope with, too.

She was admittedly attractive, and where Bruce had been quite the playboy, Mara was drawing quite a few of the sorts he used to feign being. It was not in him to play the slut, though. Mara Wayne had quickly developed the reputation of being a cold fish, though a generous one who was immersed in all the local charities and philanthropic endeavors that Bruce had once supported.

With the Justice League helping him backup his new persona, no one questioned the authenticity of the young Wayne heiress. Now, if only she could find a way to escape this moron who knew as much about the environment as a common city dweller who had never left the concrete jungle.

Even as she resisted another yawn as the man droned on, she glanced to a nearby window when a sudden shaft of bright light flashed on outside, and saw the leading edge of what had become known as the Bat-Signal.

Resisting the urge to shout in glee, she reached for her purse, then leaned toward her date for the night. "Sorry, Richard," she told the handsome young Grayson who had recently returned from college. "I need to…..step out."

Dick, having seen the signal, too, merely nodded.

"Call me if you need me," the young man murmured, and Mara had little doubt the novice hero calling himself Nightwing of late envied his escape.

"I'll let you know," she said, and headed for the exit without looking too eager. Still, just then, a life and death struggle with anyone seemed like a better evening than listening to more of that pompous blowhard babbling about an ecosystem that existed only in his empty head.

Then she forgot the man, and walked not to the restroom, but to a supply closet to which only she had a key. Five minutes later, she was speeding uptown in her new costume atop a sleek, black motorcycle, ready for whatever was to come.

_To Be Concluded…_


	4. Chapter 4

_I do not own any of the DC characters named within, and are only using them for a tale crafted for entertainment purposes only._

**Batman: Inverse Theory**

**By LJ58**

**Epilog:**

He stepped down the slick, muddy bank, his steps made awkward by his bulky isolation suit, and the oxygen tanks strapped on his back.

Even through the hood on his head, he could smell the reek of the murky, green water before him that looked to almost be bubbling. The smell was, he did not exaggerate, dreadful.

There were times that he really hated his life.

Well, there were a lot of times when he hated his life.

His job.

His dead-end existence.

He didn't even have a girlfriend. Not one he could keep. Which was a major reason why he was out here on a weekend, scooping up someone else's mess while his usual partner had bailed to make out with the shapely blonde he had been crowing about all week.

Even as he had mocked him, of course, telling him an ugly loser like himself didn't have any chance of ever getting such a girl. Or any girl.

Jerking on the long hose that was attached to the small tanker truck that would be pumping the small pond clean soon enough, he growled as he realized there was a kink in the old hose, and he half-turned, and tried to shake it free.

Even as he did, he felt one boot slide, and in spite of his grip on the kinked hose, he ended up sliding down the bank, perilously close to the edge of the murky pond where the chemical soup had been dumped by some company.

Again.

He caught himself just at the edge of the bank, and swore as his gloved hand tightened on the fat hose.

Right before the kink suddenly straightened out, giving just enough slack to end up plunging him down face first in the reeking water. He barely had time to give an abortive cry before he plunged straight down into the water, and vanished with loud splash.

The weight of his gear carried him right to the bottom of the nearly twenty foot deep hole filled with contaminated water, and while he had an oxygen tank, it was not designed for diving. His suit began to fill with water almost the moment he fell into the pond.

He struggled madly, feeling the burning as the water saturated his clothing beneath his containment suit, and tried in vain to rise. He belatedly realized he had only one way to free himself before he likely ended up dead.

He tore open the bulky containment suit, shoving off the tanks strapped to his back, and then pushed for the surface with desperate kicks as he tried to hold his breath after one last gulp of air filled with muddy water. He didn't dare imagine what else might be filling his mouth as he tasted the brackish water that filled his nose and mouth as he pushed for the surface.

Clambering to the bank, he clutched at the muddy slope, dragging himself up by using the fallen hose to pull himself back to the drier, and more stable bank. Rolling over, he dropped onto his back, and stared up at the setting sun on the artificial horizon.

Another crappy ending to a perfectly crappy day.

What a joke!

He started to push himself up, trying to figure out what the boss would say about the loss of that suit, and a new oxygen tank when he saw a bizarre sight that had him gasping for breath as shock numbed his wits for a moment.

Sitting up, he held up his hands, and stared hard at the skin that was completely, and suddenly white. Not Caucasian white. More like chalky white. Sick as a dog, and two inches from death white. He frowned, and jerked down his sodden work shirt, and saw his pale chest. His pale, hairless chest.

Every inch of skin, so far as he could tell, was the same sickly, hairless pallor.

Rising to his feet, he staggered over to the cab of his truck, and stared at himself in the driver's-side mirror.

He blinked.

Twice.

A third time.

His lips were red as blood, and seemed not unlike a ghastly wound cut into his pale face. His hair was green as grass, and looked as if someone had dyed it that way, it was so bright.

He blinked again.

Then sniggered.

The snigger turned into a giggle.

A shrill, slightly manic sound.

Then he began to laugh.

Shrill, howling bellows that carried over the growing night as he turned bloodshot eyes on the city before him. The city that had damned him. Mocked him. The city that destroyed him.

Even as his laughter gradually tapered off, a cold, manic smirk etched into his pale visage as he decided he was going to return the favor. Somehow, he was going to repay the city. Every stinking, perfect man, woman, and child that mocked him was going to pay. Especially the women.

He would see to it.

Personally.

He chortled again, and then climbed into the truck, the hose still dangling from the pump, and drove away into the night.

_End…..?_


End file.
